Chandelier
by StrawberryBlues
Summary: Everyone has something to deny. AU.
1. Party Girls

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion of and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

* * *

The matte lipstick makes her lips look bruised, Cana notices, gazing at her reflection. She purses her lips, turning her head. She likes how perfectly the deep color outlines her mouth, how she looks delicate as a doll until she raises her head and locks flashing eyes with herself in the mirror.

 _I would make a horrible doll. Dolls don't speak, or swear, or drink._ She briefly imagines trading her voice for the blank perfection and posed grace of a porcelain girl. It repulses her, leaves her cold and small inside, as she imagines never voicing her opinions and never being heard. She's tried to live in that silence before; she's drowned in that silence before, suffocated under that silence before.

She's already tried being a doll, living under a flawless pale glass front for years— a perfect girl, with perfect grades and perfect friends and a perfect life. But she'd realized soon enough hat sometimes the most perfect things are also the most broken.

So much of it had stemmed from her media consumption, she'd noticed. The magazines had sworn that dark and mysterious worked better than boisterous and vivacious. The lacrima-vision had promised that sweet and submissive aroused more than assertive power. The sensual books Erza coveted featured heroines who waited for their princes to save them from towers and dragons. Why would she have thought to disagree with these media "experts?" She'd been so focused on maintaining her own doll-like perfection that she'd forgotten to ever question the maker of the porcelain.

Dolls don't live, she muses now. They simply exist.

Cana raises an eyebrow at herself, shaking heavy dark waves out of her face. "Oye, Lucy. Keep lipstick or no?" She winces away from the matte red because it reminds her of the doll's rosebud mouth; she embraces the bold hue because when she looks at herself in the mirror, she sees her sparking eyes and her devilish grin and offers up a big "Fuck you" to the expectation of perfection.

"Hmm?" Next to her, Lucy looks up from the mirror, still holding a mascara wand tentatively in one hand. "What?"

"Lipstick. Yes or no?" Cana blows a kiss at the blonde. It fizzles against her lips like champagne, sweet and bubbly.

Lucy taps a finger against her mouth thoughtfully. "Are you going to be kissing anyone later?"

Cana grins. "Do you _know_ me?"

Lucy scoffs, returning to her own makeup, smirking at her friend's antics. "Of course you are. Keep the lipstick; take it off if you end up hooking up with someone."

The brunette giggles, dipping a thick-lashed indigo eye in a seductive wink. "I think I'll leave it on— make it my stamp of approval."

" _Cana_!"

She throws back her head and laughs, enamored by the freedom she can express with her sexuality. It makes her feel comfortable, allows her to take back some of the power she sometimes feels she just can't goddamn hold. "Relax, Luce. I'm kidding. Mostly."

"You better be." The blonde's cheeks glow red. _She's so easily embarrassed. I can't ever believe I was once that naive._

 _That's the thing about life— naivety tends to die a quick, painful death._

Shaking away her distracting thoughts, Cana turns her attention back to her mirror, carefully lining her eyes with smoky dark shadow. "I hope Dreyar shows up tonight. I'd like to mark _him_ with a stamp of approval." Her tone hangs heavy with a winking sensuality, sending scarlet shooting across Lucy's face again.

Earlier that evening, their friend Zancrow had sent out a widespread message inviting people to his house for a party after the homecoming football game. Natsu, excited to party with one of his best friends, had insisted that Lucy come, and, never one to miss out on free alcohol, Cana had decided to make an appearance as well. Part of her desire to come stemmed from her pleasure surrounding Lucy's newly-christened party-girl-persona; another large portion came in the form of the school's resident rocker, Laxus Dreyar. They'd hooked up at previous parties, staggering and laughing under the glow of alcohol, and she couldn't help but look forward to receiving more of his lightning-bright kisses.

Lucy's voice breaks into Cana's thoughts as she turns to her and spreads out her arms. "So? What do you think?"

Cana appraises the blonde. Her short, figure-hugging green dress outlines the curve of her waist, long legs outlined in ripped black tights, while the bangs pulled back in her signature ponytail make her look innocently tempting. The thick mascara turns her eyes large and limpid. "I mean, I'd fuck you."

Lucy flushes red over her cheeks and collarbones. "Thanks, I think?"

"What about me?" Cana stands and gestures to her own get-up—sheer black tights, clingy red dress, black ankle boots, bangles shining against both wrists. The smoky, lined eyes and tousled hair lend her a rumpled sensuality.

"You look fine, I guess," Lucy offers with a small smile, then frowns. "Fuck, Cana, no one's even going to look at me when you're there. You're so gorgeous."

The brunette scowls. "Hell no, Lucy, don't you even. You're cute as hell. They'll be idiots if they don't notice."

Lucy laughs nervously, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "It's been four years and no one's noticed. So I really don't think that much is going to change."

 _Don't tie your self-esteem to the attention of a guy!_ Cana bites her lip and turns away, irritation seething in her chest. She and Lucy have fought countless times over Lucy's brutal insecurity and low self-esteem, and it makes her want to scream when Lucy relegates her entire worth to just being a recipient of male attention. But she's so tired of arguing with Lucy, so tired of trying to fight through years of media brainwashing that tell Lucy she's only as special as a guy told her she is, that she just lets it slide. She's dealt with enough of her own shit. She doesn't want to get into it now with Lucy.

Once Cana realized she didn't want to be a doll, she'd shattered that porcelain perfection with a combination of combat boots, enthusiastic alcohol consumption, and a deep disregard for any concept of "virginity." Now she watches Lucy stumble into the same crisis, experience the same anxieties and the same insecurities about who she is; she understands that Lucy still hasn't realized who she wants and needs to be. At some point though, Lucy alone needs to fight to understand that she doesn't need to meet anyone else's expectations— but all Cana can do is support Lucy through that struggle.

She settles for saying, "You're eighteen years old, Luce. You have literally decades ahead of you. Don't write it off as 'nothing is going to change.'"

Lucy laughs, tone edged with icy anxiety. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't be forever alone _forever,_ right?" The _right_ hangs in between them, reaching for something that's never there. It stings like a fresh wound.

"Right!" Trying to pull Lucy from her insecurity, Cana grins and reaches for her feathered bag, lifting a full bottle of spiced rum from the largest pocket. "Now that we're looking hot as fuck, how do you feel about a little pregaming?"

Lucy smirks evilly. "You read my mind."


	2. Good Time Call

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

* * *

By the time they stagger up to Zancrow's house, they've drunk a quarter of the bottle of rum and Cana's already seeing golden streaks in her vision. She throws her head back and closes her eyes, letting the cool October air run through her hair. It makes her dizzy and she turns around the other way, trying to spin the dizziness off.

Lucy collapses into giggles beside her. "You look like a penguin!" The blonde misses a step on the sidewalk and nearly careens into Cana, catching herself with a yelp.

"You all good?" Cana snorts, patting Lucy on the head.

The blonde frowns at her with great concentration, then breaks into a giant grin. "Don't patronize me. I'm good. I'm so good. Look how good I am!" She yanks her heels off and skips around Cana, shoes slung over her shoulder, blonde hair whipping around her.

Cana laughs and hugs her friend. "Lightweight." She's floating at a great level right now, fully in control of her body but feeling so free and relaxed that she briefly wonders if she could just take off from the ground and zip through the stars like a comet.

She takes a moment to assess her weirdly poetic train of thought, wryly grinning to herself. _Maybe I'm drunker than I thought._

Bright light spills onto the sidewalk from ahead of her and she glances up at the looming house, brushing thick brown curls from her face and cupping her hands to her mouth. "Hey, losers! Party's here!"

Lucy bumps her side. "Cana, don't be rude!"

She snickers at the blonde. "Rude to these morons? They love us. It's totally fine, Lucy."

Several loud thumps emanate from the front door of the house and a moment later, a spiky pink head of hair emerges with a giant grin. " _Luce!"_

"Natsu!" Lucy carols happily, running up the steps and jumping into her best friend's arms. She recoils, crinkling her noise. "Oh my god, how much have you smoked? You smell like you lit yourself on fire."

Natsu beams at the blonde. His eyes, red-rimmed and glossy, seem to have trouble lifting from half-mast. He's holding a lit cigarette between two fingers, utterly unconcerned with the glowing red ember burning increasingly close to his hand. "That's the plan!" He plants Lucy back on her feet and waves at Cana. "What's up, Cana?"

The brunette leans against the porch bannister nonchalantly, waving a hand in the air. "Oh, nothing much, just ready to blow this party through the _roof!_ "

Natsu smirks wickedly. "Think Zancrow will mind if we break anything?"

She saunters forward, smiling, feeling the alcohol slick all her movements like oil, the silky sheen almost hanging in the air around her. "I always say it's better to apologize than to ask permission."

The pinkette throws his head back and guffaws, circling an arm around Lucy. "I like the way you think, crazy girl!"

Lucy jabs Natsu in the side petulantly. "Natsu! Come hang out with me inside. I want to do shots!"

Cana's mouth drops open. "You can't even drink rum straight from the bottle without gagging, but you want to do _shots?_ "

Natsu raises an eyebrow but obeys the blonde, holding the door open for Lucy and Cana to enter. "As the lady commands."

When they walk through the front hall, they're greeted by a cloud of smoke, the pounding pulse of a house-pop remix, and an echoing cheer of " _Lucy! Cana!_ " Lucy jumps back, surprised, but Cana just bares her teeth at the crowd in a glittering grin and opens her arms. "Mama's here, people!"

" _Cana_!" A hand wraps around her arm and tugs, and Cana finds herself face to face with a red-cheeked, swaying Mirajane Strauss. "Damn, girl, it has been too long!"

Cana throws her arms around the white-haired girl. "Mira! What've you been doing with yourself?"

Mira peeks down at the red cup in her hand, then grins sneakily at Cana. "Vodka. Lots of it."

Cana eyes the cup. "Sharesies?"

"Ugh, fine. Just because I love you."

The vodka sears the back of her throat, a hot, sweet slide, and she takes a harsh breath in to try to cool the scorching heat. It burns more than it should. She frowns. "Haven't drunk straight vodka in a while, Mira. Is this new?"

Mira winks a big blue eye. "Mixed."

"Ah." Cana takes an appraising glance at the red cup and downs the rest of the contents. The warmth settles in her stomach soothingly. She looks around for more.

Another arm circles around her waist from behind, and she turns her head to see Zancrow smirking at her. "Look at you, skipping shots already." He leans in to sniff her cup. "Vodka?"

She grins right back at him, fire blazing bright in her throat and her gut. "Figured I'd pass the newbie stuff."

"We've got whiskey, vodka, and tequila in the back," he murmurs into her ear. "Help yourself."

She smiles. "Sweet. Thanks, blondie." Pushing out from his arm, she heads towards the rear dining room. On the way, she runs into Levy and Gajeel making out languidly against a doorframe.

Levy breaks away from Gajeel's embrace to wave happily. "Cana! Cana!"

"Hey, short stuff. You guys seem… uh… occupied."

Gajeel snickers, sliding his arms around the slender bluenette's waist and tugging her back against his larger frame. "Damn straight."

She stares at them for a moment longer than normal. Gajeel's dark eyes seem abnormally glassy when he locks eyes with Cana, Levy giggling and swaying in his arms. Cana raises an eyebrow. "Who brought a hookah?"

Gajeel snorts. "Fuck it, Cana. What was that, five seconds? You're getting slow."

"If you assholes weren't sucking face in a public place, maybe I'd have noticed faster," she shoots back quickly, giggling.

Levy snickers. "Says the girl who had sex with Hibiki Lates in Mirajane's sauna while the rest of us were in the next room over."

Cana pauses. "That was actually really good. We were tripping on acid. It was awesome."

Gajeel raises a pierced eyebrow evilly. "We know— we could hear you."

"Shut the fuck up, Gajeel," she snaps at him good-naturedly. "You guys carry on. I'm finding me some tequila."

"Have fun!" Levy calls to her before reaching back up to Gajeel and pulling him down against the doorframe.

"Sure fucking thing!" Cana tosses back as she moves into the next room. Lisanna Strauss and Bickslow have set up a beer pong match on the carved wood dining room table, and she watches in mild amusement as the white-haired girl launches a ball in a picture-perfect arc into a red solo cup.

Bickslow slams his hands down on the table, grinning drunkenly. "I have no fucking idea how you did that."

Lisanna balances herself with one hand on the table and the other against the wall, swaying minutely as she giggles. "Neither do I!"

"It's your evolved animal talents," Cana contributes as she passes them. "You're probably still part-chimpanzee or something, so it improves your aim. But you can only turn it on during beer pong."

Lisanna throws a ping pong ball at Cana, snickering. "Get the fuck out, Cana!"

"Make me, chimp girl," Cana snarks, earning a separate thrown ball from Bickslow.

"Cana, let us finish our game!" the tattooed musician bellows. "You're distracting Lisanna from getting her soul crushed at pong."

Cana ignores Lisanna's answering irritation and waves a hand at the two friends. "My bad, Bickslow. Proceed with the soul-crushing."

 _Tequila. Aim for the tequila._ She ignores all the distractions around her, shutting out the noise of Gray and Natsu bickering over alcohol selections and Lisanna and Bickslow shouting about their beer pong match, and heads straight for the alcohol bottles. Tequila, vodka, and whiskey dominate the table, as Zancrow told her, though she catches sight of a flask or two and several stacked shot glasses. _Definitely a tequila kind of night. Celebrating Homecoming and all that happy shit._

She observes the bottle placidly for a moment, then brings it to her mouth and _drinks_.Finally, gasping, she slams the bottle down on the table and rests on straight arms, letting her head hang between her shoulders. She keeps a hand on the bottle, bringing it with her as she straightens up and takes another swig. It makes her cough.

"Too much?" a softer voice inquires at her side. "It burns like a motherfucker, you know."

She tilts her head up, meeting a pair of slightly red-rimmed hazel eyes. The tattoo slashing through one side of his face clarifies his identity immediately through the haze. "Jellal!" she grins, hugging the bluenette. "I didn't know you'd be here!"

He chuckles, running a hand haphazardly through his hair. _High,_ Cana notes distractedly. "Ah, Erza wanted to party, so I came with."

"Erza!" Cana spins, excited. When no irritated redhead storms up, she pouts and turns to Jellal. "Where is our favorite knight in shining armor?"

Jellal's mouth quirks in a smirk as he points to the couch. Erza's curled up in the cushioned corner, either passed-out, sleeping, or dead. Cana frowns. "Is she alive?"

The tattooed bluenette pauses. "I hope so." When Cana raises her eyebrows at him, he rolls his eyes. "Yes, she's alive, but she's an idiot. She smoked a bowl with Natsu, took eleven shots of tequila, threw up, and fell asleep around an hour ago. I'm waiting for her to wake back up before I take her home."

" _Eleven?"_ Cana's eyes widen. The redhead has nowhere _near_ a tolerance necessary to make that enjoyable.

Jellal closes his eyes, looking exhausted. _He's probably incredibly cross-faded right now, and I bet I'm not helping at all._ The errant thought actually gives her a pulse of wry amusement. "She decided to participate in a drinking contest against Macao and Wakaba." He says this as if it explains the situation, which, if she's being honest with herself, it entirely does.

She blinks. "Macao and Wakaba drink more than almost anyone we know. They're literally alcoholics. What was she _thinking?"_ Cana stares at Jellal, astounded at his girlfriend's antics.

Jellal cracks a small smile. "You know Erza— she wanted to win."

"Of course she did." Cana lifts the bottle again, letting the liquid hum against her lips before she swallows. Her vision's acquired a lovely little blur, making everything around her glow a very soft shade of pink. "Erza's a winner!"

She drinks again and it must take longer than it seems to her because when she drops the bottle back down to her side, Jellal's gone, disappeared back into the depths of the house. People shift and talk quietly around her; she peers hazily around, vaguely interested in the faces she sees. Evergreen and Elfman lean suggestively towards each other on a sofa, sharing a joint. Wendy, the only freshman invited to the seniors' party, avidly watches dark-haired Mest roll a cigarette, both of them sprawled loosely under Zancrow's table. She smiles when her eyes meet Cana's, lifting a hand and waving happily before leaning forward to take the paper between her lips, lighter already lifted and ready.

 _Lift the bottle. Swig. Rinse and repeat._ It's easy to lose herself in the stinging slide, she thinks, so easy to bury herself in the hot flush trickling through her with every swallow that she closes her eyes and just lets herself focus on the swaying in her head and the sharp smolder in her throat.

But there's warmth on her back now too, and she smiles, tilting her head to the side, already knowing who's there as he brushes his mouth over the exposed curve of her shoulder and throat, slides his hands over her sides to pull her back against him. Her skin tingles, prickling and sensitive wherever his lips brush, and she arches against him, sighing. "I didn't know if you were coming tonight."

His laugh, dark and provocative, rumbles against her throat as he nuzzles closer to press kisses behind her ear, tone rich with innuendo. "Maybe I am."

She giggles at the insinuation, turning to face him. He's grinning, cocky and tousled, eyes bright with whatever he smoked before arriving. She wants to run her hands through his spiky blond hair, wants to grab him by his collar and pull him down and press her lips to his. She doesn't, just looks up at him with violet eyes she knows are smoky and sensual. "You seem confident in your ability to get some tonight, Dreyar."

Laxus smirks at her, leaning forward and invading her space with his larger body, almost pressing her back against the wall with a muscled forearm next to her head. When he speaks, he dips his head and catches her gaze with hot dark eyes and a suggestive, sultry curve on his lips: "Maybe I am."


	3. Feel the Love

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

* * *

She can feel her fingers tingling as she reaches out and carefully, carefully slips a card from the ring on the floor and flips it over. "Six."

"Six is chicks!" Natsu announces, grinning blearily. All the women playing take a swig from their cups. Cana takes three, enjoying the liquid heat in her throat.

They're sitting on Zancrow's floor playing a drinking game affectionately labeled "Circle of Death." For every card drawn, there's an assigned action in which the group participates. Whoever breaks the circle of cards with his or her draw has to drink the cup in the middle. So far, only Lucy has had to drink, the potent mix of rum and coke leaving the blonde nearly tipping over in her seat.

"My turn," Laxus rumbles from behind Cana, reaching around her to draw a card. She settles back against his chest as he pulls back to a resting position. "I got a ten."

"Categories!" Gray calls from his seat against the wall, red-rimmed eyes closed, clearly feeling the bowl he and Natsu smoked earlier on Zancrow's porch.

"Categories…" the blonde murmurs, thinking. Cana feels him grin against her hair. "Category is rock bands."

Zancrow starts. "Cream."

"Maroon 5," Lucy giggles

"Aerosmith," Natsu offers.

"Zeppelin," Gray counters. "Better than Aerosmith any day." Natsu bristles at him but remains quiet in an unusual display of self-control.

Jellal absently scratches his tattoo. "Smashing Pumpkins."

 _My turn._ "Red Hot Chili Peppers."

"Rolling Stones," Laxus smirks.

It's Lucy's turn, but the blonde's too busy whispering in Zancrow's ear. He grins, murmuring something back through her hair that makes her blush. Cana eyes them with interest. _I never thought Lucy'd be into Blondie, but I suppose you never know._

She'd briefly hooked up with Zancrow junior year— he'd been into her for _years_ , though she'd wanted to only be friends and she'd been with Bacchus at the time—, but when Bacchus had left town she'd decided that getting with a friend wasn't the end of the world. At least she'd known he'd support her after all the shit she'd gone through with Bacchus. Shit that was feeling way too relevant with the way her head was spinning from the tequila…

 _Screw this._ "Luce, you're up."

The blonde looks up, swaying and smiling. "What?"

"Lucy's out!" Juvia announces. The normally excitable bluenette sprawls over Gray's lap, gazing up happily at the ceiling and moving her arms in fluid patterns. Her blue eyes shimmer in the light, heavily glossed over from her last hit. "Drink up."

"Okay!" Lucy grins, reaching for her cup on the floor. She misses and brushes her fingers over the floor, unable to find her drink until Zancrow hands it to her. He helps her drink some of it and she collapses against him in giggles. Cana overhears her stage whisper to Zancrow: "I think I'm drunk."

"We're all drunk," he murmurs back, petting her hair. "You're such a lightweight though!"

"I know," Lucy moans quietly, taking another sip and making a face.

The game continues around them. Juvia pulls a seven, assigning seven drinks to the people in the circle. Cana drinks twice. Laxus has to do four. Gray's ace starts a "waterfall" around the circle— everyone starts drinking when the person to his or her right starts drinking, and stops when that same person stops. Cana's waterfall leaves her head buzzing and golden light streaking through her vision when she turns her head. She's worried that she'll fall if she gets up, but occupies herself leaning back against Laxus' solid chest.

Cana glances hazily around the circle, wondering when so many people ended up sitting in the same room. Mirajane sits next to Fried, whispering in his ear as the green-haired drummer bends his head to her with a small, private smile. _Bet they'll fuck by the end of the night._ Across from them, Macao and Wakaba are slumped back on their elbows, discussing something in hushed voices. Wakaba holds a clove cigarette between his teeth, exhaling smooth blue-grey rings above the group. Natsu's hitting on a clearly interested Laki, sitting with an arm around her, while Gray and Juvia watch on as if observing a peculiarly-behaving pet, both still hazy and high. Levy and Gajeel have migrated into the room and collapsed on a sofa, Levy sprawled over Gajeel's chest, eyes open but glassy and distracted. Wendy and Doranbolt meander through the circle, passing a joint back and forth.

She cranes her neck backwards. Bickslow and Lisanna are flirting by the doorway, Bickslow leaning on one forearm above Lisanna's head while she bites her lip shyly and smiles up at him. _Guess two Strauss siblings are getting laid tonight, and by members of Laxus' band, no less._

Evergreen and Elfman stumble in, bickering. As she watches, Elfman catches Evergreen by the waist and kisses her hard, stopping her mid-sentence. The two meld together shamelessly, hands flying everywhere. Cana raises an eyebrow. _That makes three Strauss siblings and three Raijinshuu. Intriguing._

She almost alerts Laxus to his band's romantic pursuits, but decides to leave that treat till later. He's notoriously protective of them all, even though they're all some of the most intimidating students in the high school. Rumor had it that the last time a rival band fucked with them, they stole the lead singer's guitar and carved lightning bolts into it before returning it. _Lesson: don't fuck with the Raijinshuu._ She makes a note to ask Laxus about whether the story's true; she bets he'll answer her with that cocky smirk and a "You'll never know." Stupid rocker.

Someone's nudging her, and she looks up to see Natsu grinning at her. "Your card."

She reaches out, feels her arm glide like liquid through the air, pulls out one stiff, slim card. The mask-like Queen of Hearts smiles beatifically back at her. "Queen."

"Questions," Jellal quietly supplies from his seat against the base of a chair, Erza curled up, unconscious, in his lap. Her scarlet hair seeps across his leg like blood. "You have to ask someone a question, and they can only respond with a question. Whoever repeats a question or can't come up with one loses."

She grins evilly, tossing thick brown hair over her shoulder as she glances up at the blond holding her. "You ready, Sparky?"

"You sure you know what you're getting into?" he counters easily, smirking back.

"Have you considered that you're the one who can't handle me?" she breathes up at him, dropped eyelashes turning the question into a seduction.

He chuckles, ducking his head to run his nose along the curve of his shoulder. "Why do you make everything a challenge?"

"Why don't you back down from it?" she throws back, daring him.

Laxus' breath is hot against her skin, sending delighted prickles along her arms. "Hasn't anyone ever told you I don't give up easily?"

She's turned in his arms to face him, legs settled over his hips. "Have you ever had anyone like me before?" She lets her upper body sway towards his, rolls her hips the smallest bit into his, sensual and confident.

Cana sees him swallow hard, sees his eyes go dark and hot. "No, I haven't," he whispers roughly before he leans forward and kisses her hard. She melts against him, running a hand through his hair and pulling herself closer with the other. His hands knead hungrily at her hips, rocking her against him. She groans deep in her throat, deepening the kiss. Her bones feel like they've turned to white-hot liquid.

"Laxus loses!" she hears Natsu crow, but ignores him, focusing on the feel of Laxus against her, all strong muscle and heat. He feels so good against her, it's all she can do to not moan out loud.

He pulls back, breathing hard, eyes still fixed to hers, and his lips curl into that damned smirk. "You wanna take a break from the game?"

She deliberately grinds against him, driving an agonized gasp from his lips. When she winks at him, it's with a wicked violet gaze. "I'd love to."

Climbing off his lap, she tugs him to his feet and out of the room. On the way out, she catches a glimpse of Lucy in Zancrow's arms, gazing up at him through hazy-bright eyes. Cana grins. _You go, girl._ She hopes the blonde will have some fun tonight.

Laxus tugs her hand, running his fingers over the sensitive skin of her forearm, and she turns her attention to the man ahead of her, spiky blond head tilted devilishly and a seductive smirk playing over his lips. _I think I'm going to have some fun tonight too._


	4. Till I Lose Count

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

* * *

She's not sure when they stumbled into the small closet, but she has bigger things on her mind: her head's spinning and his hands are hot under her shirt and her entire body feels like it's on fire. The alcohol must have combusted in her bloodstream, she thinks frantically, burning off with every searingly hot kiss he presses to her throat, but she's still drunk, still drunk on him and the crackle of energy that seems to surround him as he leans in and—

 _Ooh._ Wickedly talented fingers find curves under clothes and caress, tweaking and twisting until she arches against him, gasping for breath and lightheaded. "L-Laxus—I can't—"

He smirks down at her, stormy grey eyes fully enjoying the view of her, tousled and flushed and breathless, pressed against the wall. Her head's spinning, though she can't tell if it's from alcohol or from the blond's skillful kisses. He's drunk too, she knows, can smell it on his clothes and on his breath when he tugs her close again. His lips taste like vodka and lemons.

"Dreyar, where in the _hell_ did you learn to kiss like this?" she gasps, knees turning to water as he teases her lips with his, then pulls her into a fiery, shatteringly thorough kiss.

His laughter rumbles through his chest. "I don't kiss and tell."

She pouts, curious about his answer, but his hands slide back under her dress and she decides she doesn't _really_ need to know. There are too many delicious distractions right now, like the expanse of broad, muscled chest she can see through the gap of his button-down. She leans forward and kisses the dip between his collarbones, running her tongue over the smooth planes of his clavicle, feeling his groan shudder through him as he tilts his head back.

When she nips at his shoulder with blunt teeth, he inhales sharply, eyes flaring with heat, and yanks her up to his mouth, devouring her again with his lips. Laxus' hands paint lines of fire over her skin, and she blearily realizes that her fingers are fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, eagerly searching for the taut, tattooed skin underneath, both of them racing to touch and caress as much as the other as possible.

His hand dips around her thigh, skimming up the sensitive inner skin, and she barely hears him murmur in her ear, "Is this okay," barely gathers her thoughts together to gasp "Yes, yes, keep going." Her breath hitches when his fingers find the edge of her black lace panties and delve in, stroking like butter through her heat. She wonders hazily if playing guitar gifted his fingers with their agility, but gives up trying to think when he deftly slides a slick digit inside her, adding another when she lets out a breathy moan and buckles forward. She moves against him frantically, lost in the sensations of his hand rubbing against her, his fingers working inside of her, his lips on her breast wreaking havoc on her ability to even _think_ —

There's a loud banging on the closet door, breaking through the heat of the moment like cold water, and before either Cana or Laxus can move, it swings open and light pours in. Mirajane, framed by streaming light, blinks at the tableau in front of her: Cana sprawled against the wall, red-cheeked and panting, Laxus in front of her with his shirt dangling from his shoulders, one hand still under her dress and the other twined in her hair.

Laxus, grinning like a wolf, slowly and deliberately withdraws his hand from Cana's dress, turning to face Mira, bare chest and all. "Do you need something, Strauss?"

Mira's eyes widen. She's swaying, red-cheeked and glossy-eyed, bottle of wine held in a slim hand. "Oh! I— what—"

Cana smirks at her from behind Laxus, dropping one eye in a sensual wink. She makes no attempt to hide her rumpled appearance. "We're a little busy here, babe."

The white-haired girl recovers quickly from her shock, replacing it with a leer at Cana. "Get it, girl. Carry on." She turns to go, tossing her hair over her shoulder when she looks back at Cana. "Oh, and Lucy wants to talk to you when you're done fucking in a closet. Her words, not mine."

Cana feels her cheeks flush with red, ignoring Laxus' grin at her embarrassment. "Thanks, Mira."

Mira beams drunkenly at her. "No problem, sweetie! Enjoy… _this._ " She waves a languid hand at Laxus as she sways away. "I'm going to go find Fried."

"Use protection!" Cana yells after her happily. Laxus chokes.

Mira raises a hand to show she's heard, taking another swig from her bottle as she turns the corner.

Laxus raises an eyebrow at Cana. "Mira and… Fried?"

Cana shrugs. The world tilts happily when she does that, and she leans a shoulder against the wall. "She likes nice guys." _Though Fried dyes his hair green and has script tattoos everywhere… he definitely counts as a nice guy in_ my _book. He's only ever treated her with respect._

The blond shakes his head, looking bemused. Light flashes off his earring. "Huh. Didn't know chicks are into Fried."

"I saw Bickslow getting it on with Lisanna, too," Cana tells him, amused at his surprise surrounding his bandmates' love lives. "Your team's getting some tonight."

He broods, heavy brows slanting over stormy eyes. "Don't even get me started on Ever and Elfman… I walked in on them during the last party. Things were seen. Eyes were bleached."

"Mira's too far gone to remember us tomorrow, though," Cana murmurs, stepping closer to him in an attempt to regain the mood. She levels her attack on him with a sensual curve on her lips, peering up at him through violet, hooded eyes. "We won't have to worry about anyone else's eyes."

"That's… good." His voice drops down low as he reaches out to her and pulls her close, claiming her mouth with his again. These kisses are deep and long, stolen in between smiles and gasps of air. Heat unwinds in her stomach again as she slides her arms under his, feeling the powerful corded muscles of his back flex against her palms, clasping him to her in an attempt to pull them closer and closer.

His hand slips back under her dress and she skims a hand down his front, finds him hard and ready, strokes him through his jeans. He growls and slides his hands around her thighs, lifting her to lock her legs around his hips as he sits her on top of an old table. She twines her hands around his shoulders, pulling herself hard against him, kissing him desperately like she's breathless and he's her only source of oxygen. He breaks away to breathe and she presses hot kisses to the clean lines of his throat, sucking down to his collarbones and then further down his chest.

"Can I—" he pauses, gasping for air. "Is it okay if I touch you more?"

"Hell yes," she breathes, watching him with dark, hot eyes as he grins and slips his hands up under her dress, skimming it off and over her head.

Sliding his hands up over her ribs, he meets her hungry gaze with a sloe-eyed smirk. "What about Lucy? She wanted to talk to you."

When she speaks, her lips brush against the hollow of his throat. She can feel the flutter of his heartbeat with every word. "Don't worry about it." She slips a hand under his waistband, tempted by the groan that ripples through his body. "I'll find her later."


	5. Like A Bird

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

* * *

Cana groans, throwing the back of her hand over her eyes and wincing. "Make the light stop."

"It's the sun." Lucy glances down at her friend in concern.

"Make the sun stop."

"That seems extreme for a hangover."

"Shhh." Cana lifts her wrist and glares at the blonde. "You're too coherent."

"Wimp." They go back to sitting on the hill in silence. The green grass ripples around them, bronzed by the bright sun. Lucy sits with her knees pulled up to her chest, arms draped over her shins. Cana's sprawled on her back beside her, arm still dropped over her eyes.

They're quiet for a while.

"Did you and Laxus have a good time?" Lucy murmurs, breaking the tranquil hush. "You disappeared pretty early on."

Cana doesn't move her arm, but her red lips curl in a satisfied smirk. "Yeah, we did."

Lucy smiles too. "Do you like him?"

"You mean to fuck? Because he does this amazing thing with his tongue—"

Red stains the blonde's cheeks. "I mean as someone you could be with. Romantically."

Now Cana moves, lifting her arms to rest behind her head as a pillow. She opens her violet eyes briefly, then shuts them with a wince. She exhales quietly. "I don't know. Maybe. I like being with him. It feels different than it did with— than it did before."

"Better than before?" Lucy pushes gently.

"Maybe." Cana twists her mouth unhappily. "Just… different. I don't know." She flips over onto her stomach, suddenly grinning, fixing Lucy with mischievous eyes. "But enough about me, what about you and Blondie? I saw you guys getting it on last night too."

Lucy flushes scarlet. "Me and Zancrow?"

"I see a story in those red cheeks," Cana teases. "How was it?"

She's proud of her friend for finally taking a step into _her_ world. Lucy grew up following the rules, believing that you don't drink or smoke or sneak out or hook up with your friends at parties. Boundaries were to keep you safe, she learned, because there was a way the world worked.

That was until Lucy learned that _her_ world wasn't the only one out there, and that these other worlds burn brighter than anything she'd ever experienced.

Cana lives in a world of hazy-bright memories and searing rum and constant kisses exchanged at parties. Rules are for the uncreative; _following_ signifies complacency. Her lifestyle defies the norm and gives conformism the middle finger. In her world, the biggest claim to fame is _deviation_.

Now Lucy drinks and smokes with her, kisses strangers with her, breaks the rules with her, and Cana is realizing how much she loves having a partner in crime. She's so excited that her old friend has accepted the bright blaze of her lifestyle, just as much as she has.

(She's not quite willing yet to admit that she's reassured by the fact that her well-balanced friend has chosen the same world; that maybe, she's not a fuck up for breaking the mold if Lucy has done the same).

"We hooked up," Lucy tells her, and Cana lets out a cheer.

"That's my girl!" She _knew_ the blonde would easily get the male attention she craved, and Zancrow was a friend. She was glad that Lucy had chosen to hook up with someone she trusted.

Lucy smiles back shyly. "Yeah." She seems proud.

"How was it?" Cana props her chin up on her arms, grinning at the blonde. "I want details! This is a big moment for you!"

"Well, we were playing that drinking game, and I was getting _super_ tipsy, so I asked him if we could go lie down." Lucy shifts in embarrassment. "I can't believe I said that…"

"Go on, go on!" Cana urges her, smirking. "I wanna know!"

Lucy laughs. "Um, we went up to his room and started, you know… doing stuff."

"Yeah, my little Lucy is getting it! I'm so proud!" Cana crows. "And?"

"And, it was good," Lucy offers, shoving Cana with her toe. "You're such a perv."

She rolls away from the blonde's foot. "I'm just interested in the love lives of my friends." She pauses. "Did you go down on him?"

"Cana!" Lucy tries to kick her.

Cana dodges. "Did you?"

Lucy sighs. "No."

"Did he go down on you?"

"Um. Yes. I think so."

"You think so?" The brunette frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I— don't really remember much about it," the blonde mutters. "I think I was passing out a little bit. I was just drunk. It's fine."

 _What?_ "You were _passing out?"_

"Yeah, you know, just a little hazy." Lucy shrugs, laughing breathily. "It's totally fine."

 _No. No, that's not fine._ "Babe, no, that's not okay. Did he stop and check to make sure you were okay?"

She shifts again. She doesn't meet Cana's eyes. "Um. I think he stopped later. But I'm sure I said it was okay when we started."

"When you— _Lucy!"_ Cana can feel a deep tremble starting in her bones. Her fingers are shaking as she jolts up into a sitting position and places her hands on top of Lucy's. "Sweetie? Did you say it was okay? Can you remember?"

Lucy looks at Cana with bright eyes, a smile flickering anxiously at the edges of her lips. "I must have. I was totally fine with it. I was just drunk."

 _Oh, god, no._ "Lucy, you were passing out. You were unconscious. That's not 'just drunk.'"

Lucy's shaking her head. "I was fine with it. I am fine."

"It's _not fine!"_ Cana feels her heart pounding, can see her hands shaking against Lucy's. "You can't give consent for sex when you're passing out! He needed to stop!"

"It was just a hook-up, Cana." Lucy's tone is flat. "I'm fine. It's fine."

"It wasn't," Cana whispers. She can barely breathe. _I'm so sorry, baby. This is my fault, for not taking better care of you._ "I'm sorry."

" _It was a hook-up._ Nothing more. Nothing—else." _Stop,_ the blonde's eyes beg Cana. _I can't hear this. I can't deal with it._ "Just stop making it complicated."

Cana breathes out painfully, closing her eyes. She's trembling. "I just— Lucy, you _know_ what happened was—"

Lucy looks up at this, laughing distractedly. Her eyes glance over Cana's, then drift back off into the distance. She pulls a smile onto her face. "I hooked up with Zancrow and had too much to drink. That's what happened." _Please stop talking to me about it._

Cana grimaces at the plea evident in Lucy's strained voice, eyes still closed. "Yeah. Okay."

"I had a fun time at the party, though! We should get together sometime soon for lunch, maybe this week." Lucy rolls to her feet. "I need to get home now, okay? My mom wants me back."

"Yeah," Cana breathes, reaching out for the blonde. "Sweetie, I want you to call me if you need _anything._ Please. I'm here."

"I know you are," Lucy says quietly. "I will."

"I love you so much." _I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

"I love you too."

The blonde leaves quickly.

Cana fists her hands in the grass as the panic comes, settling deep into her stomach, writhing through her body like icy snakes. Her breaths rip at her throat as they start to come faster and faster. _Lucy. Lucy. No. Please._ She buries her head in her hands. _Zancrow, damn you. Damn you. Why didn't you stop? I trusted you. You said you understand._

She grits her teeth and forces herself to breathe deeply through the pounding in her ears. Nausea boils in her stomach. She sees Zancrow's grin against the back of eyelids, can hear the tremble in Lucy's voice that Lucy seemed to be desperately ignoring. She wants to swear, wants to scream, wants to cradle Lucy to her chest and pound her fists into Zancrow's traitorous, backstabbing, hurtful face. She settles on breaking down into gasping sobs that feel like they're ripped from her throat.

 _You bastard. I hate you. I hate you. I'll never forgive you._

She crumples there on the hillside and cries.


	6. Holding On for Dear Life

**Author's Note and content warning: This story explores sexism in many forms, one of which is a discussion of and reference to sexual assault and rape culture.**

 **CW for this chapter: discussion of r/pe**

* * *

The bottle tilts listlessly in Cana's clenched fist, neck drooping dangerously towards the ground. She catches it, brings it back to her mouth, drinks, lets it drop heavily back down. The vodka burns her throat, and she tips the bottle back and drinks more. Better to be on fire than frozen, she thinks.

Her eyes hurt from crying. She bets she looks like shit. She doesn't even care.

 _Just stop making it complicated_ , Lucy had told her the day before, voice strained. The blonde had turned away from her with shuttered brown eyes, arms wrapped around her knees.

 _It's hard to stop making it complicated when it's suffocating you though_ , Cana thinks. She curls an arm over her stomach, taking another burning gulp. _It's hard when it's your complication too._

She closes her eyes as images splinter her vision, playing over the backs of her eyelids, sharp and jagged as glass. _I love you. You want this too. I love you._ Hands on her arms, on her body, hands pinning and hurting. _Stop. Please!_ Struggle. Cry. _I love you._ Hands again.

"Shit!" She's shaking, unable to breathe easily. "Stop it, stop it, stop it." She hasn't had flashbacks in months. She screams in frustration, burying her head in her hands. "Shh, you're okay. You're okay." She rocks herself quickly, shuddering. "I'm okay. I'm safe."

She wonders if Lucy's shaking apart today too, and imagines pounding a fist into Zancrow's fucking face. She wants to hurt him. She wants to see him _bleed_.

There are footsteps on the roof behind her. "Cana?"

 _Dammit. Laxus._ "What the fuck are you doing up here, Dreyar?" She scrubs at her face with a palm before turning to look at him.

He's standing at the door to the roof, one hand rubbing at his hair, the other stuffed into a pocket. "Mira told me you were up here. Why _are_ you up here?"

She sniffs, laughs wetly, holds up the bottle. "Indulging."

He laughs a little too, walking towards her. "You drink too much."

"I drink a perfect amount, thank you," she snips. "You drink too little."

"Shouldn't you be in the middle of—" he glances at his watch— "sixth period?"

She smiles weakly. "Sixth period is for chumps." She tips the bottle into her mouth again. It's started to taste better, or maybe she's just started to care less.

He's next to her now, folding himself down onto the rough pavement, all wide, strong shoulders and long legs. He reaches out a gentle hand to her chin, tilting her face up to his. His eyes are soft. "Cana, what's going on?"

"Nothing." The walls go up hard, even though she knows he sees the salt trails on her cheeks and the damp swollenness of her eyes. She winces when her voice comes out as vulnerable as it can be. _Fuck._

"Cana?" He reaches out to put a hand on her knee and she jerks away before she can think. She's trembling, and she sees him realize and pull his hand away. "I'm sorry."

Her breath feels like a serrated knife in her lungs. "No, I— I'm sorry."

He doesn't make any more moves to touch her, just sits next to her with his hands folded over his shins. It's comforting in a way. She gulps down another sip and waits for the shaking to stop.

"Did something happen?" His voice is gentle and deep, not arrogant and domineering the way she's used to hearing it.

"I—" Her walls are up again, but she fights them back down, brick by brick. She wants to trust this boy. He seems to open himself up to her completely, and she feels like she should at least try to meet him at least halfway. "Yes. Something—" But saying the words is physically hard; the sounds catch in her throat and she has to start over. "Something happened."

"Are you okay?" he pushes gently when it seems like she won't say anything else.

She doesn't know. "Maybe." After a pause, she takes a deep breath and tips her head forward, letting her forehead rest on her wrists, clasped over her knees. "Lucy and Zancrow hooked up at that party."

Laxus nods. "Yeah, I know. Zancrow was talking about it in the cafeteria."

She fights down the wave of nausea she feels at that news. "I bet he was." There are waves pounding in her ears, and she doesn't know if it's her blood or the force of her anger and pain. "But did he mention that she passed out drunk when they hooked up, and he didn't stop?"

Laxus freezes. She feels him physically stop moving. "What?"

She glares at him. "Zancrow. Didn't. Stop."

His eyes are wide. She sees different emotions flutter over his face— confusion, fear, anger, disgust. He knows. "Shit."

"Yeah."

"Is she okay?" he asks quietly. His entire posture has changed, slumped forward against his legs. She empathizes. Her entire soul has slumped forward too.

Cana shrugs, laughs weakly. "I don't know. She won't really talk about it." Her eyes are hot and wet again.

"Shit."

"Yeah." She feels the wetness in her eyes spill over, tracing down her cheeks, salty on her lips. She drinks deep from the bottle again. "So. Here I am."

"Here you are," he agrees, exhaling heavily. "Is it okay if I'm here with you?"

She chokes back a laugh. She feels hysterical. "Yeah. Just— sit there and be quiet, okay?"

"Can do."

They sit. She sips occasionally from the bottle, listening to the rhythm of his breath beside her. He folds his fingers together under his chin and stares off the edge of the roof. It's quiet. She breathes in, letting the air brush her lips.

 _I love you. You want this too—_

 _—stop, please—_

 _—I love you—_

 _—just stop making it complicated._

Tears are sliding down her cheeks, hot and fast, and before she knows it she's gasping for breath. Laxus reaches out for her in panic but she shies away. "Don't— touch— me-!" _I_ don't _want it. Stop touching._

He draws back, placing his hands firmly in his lap so that she can see them. "I won't. I won't."

 _Breathe, Cana. Breathe, girl, come on. You are strong. Be strong._ Slowly she uncurls herself. She manages a weak smile. "Sorry about that."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm sorry. About the touching."

She shrugs. "Yeah."

He folds his hands together, clenches the knuckles. "Is the no touching a rule— in general?"

"Um. No. We've done a lot of touching together recently, you remember?" She smiles weakly. "But no. I just— touching's not really good when I'm thinking about—some stuff."

"How do I know when you're thinking about— some stuff?" His eyes are dark and kind.

"I'll probably either break something or cry," she sighs, both snarky and serious. "Maybe both, if it's a great day." They're silent again for a moment. Then: "Laxus?"

He looks up at her. "Yeah?"

She clasps her hands together. "I don't think I've told you this, but after Bacchus and I broke up— after I broke up with him—, he came to town. He wanted to see me. He wanted to— start a sexual relationship with me again." She glances at him to check something; she doesn't know what. He's waiting for her to go on, and it encourages her. "We were hanging out, and he wanted to— you know. I said no. He—didn't listen."

Laxus' mouth tenses, but he says nothing.

She clenches her fists. "I said, stop, no, please, all of it. Whatever. It doesn't matter. He didn't stop. He held me down. And after, he thought we were fine." Pause. "That was rape. And it took me so long to see it, and accept it, and stop blaming myself for it when I should have been blaming him." She looks squarely at him. "And now Lucy's denying that what happened to her was _wrong_ , and _not her fault_ , and it feels like everything I worked to accept and move on from in the past year is being thrown back in my face. I feel like I failed her. I feel like I failed myself."

"I'm so sorry," Laxus whispers. His expression is agonized. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Thanks," she murmurs, sending him a smile. "Me too."

"What do I say to that?" he asks helplessly. "I want to support you—and her— every way I can, I just— What do I say?"

She thinks for a moment. "Say— you believe us. That you're sorry it happened to us. That you're sorry that we live in a world that allows this to happen. Tell me that you'll keep fighting to change this world so that it never happens again."

"Okay." Laxus takes a slow breath. "I believe you. I believe her. I'm so, so _fucking_ sorry that happened. I'm sorry this world is so shitty." He looks up, meeting her eyes with his dark, solemn gaze. His lips quirk in a small smile as he looks down and back up. "And we— _I—_ will keep fighting to make it so that it will _never_ happen again."

His words fizz in her chest like warm champagne. She smiles at him, glad for the affirmation. She knows they won't change her memories, her flashbacks, the harshness of breath she gets from too much touch or the phrase "You want it." She knows that, as a man living in a man's world, Laxus still will unknowingly do some of the things that hurt women. She knows that she's still putting herself back together. But it's nice to hear him ask how he can support her, and actually listen to her answer. "Thanks."

"Thank you." He exhales next to her, tilting his chin up to the sky without looking at her. "Would it be okay if I touched your hand right now?"

 _Thanks for asking._ "Yeah. I think so."

"Okay."

His fingers settle lightly over hers, warm and dry and comfortable. She feels the calluses on his fingertips, rough against her softer hand. They sit there together in silence for a while, watching the sun move against the clouds.


End file.
